


By the sea

by mwestbelle



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Community: no_tags, D/s, Domestic, F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mwestbelle/pseuds/mwestbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>23. Gerard/Frank/Jamia, east coast family day at the beach with candy and cuddles</p><p>with a little D/s for flavor</p>
            </blockquote>





	By the sea

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for no_tags 2013
> 
> Warnings: This fic mentions the real life kids.

"Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_." Gerard's head thuds against the wooden slats of the changing rooms. "We're gonna be in so much trouble."

His words aren't as insistent as his hand on the back of Frank's head, heavy and demanding, short nails occasionally scratching his scalp. Frank pulls back as far as he can and looks up at Gerard, arching his eyebrows pointedly. It may have been his idea to take a little...detour, but it's not as though Gerard had any complaints once he got down on his knees.

Gerard moans, a little sad one because he's a fucking manipulative jerk, and Frank takes him back in again, all the way to the root. He's out of practice, and his throat rebels a little against the sudden appearance of a fat dick, but he keeps his cool. He swallows around Gerard, working his throat and his lips and his tongue all at once, all the ways he knows to drive Gerard crazy. It works; in no time flat, he's coming with enough of a commotion that there's no way they're getting out of this stall with their dignity intact.

Frank doesn't care that much about dignity, not when he can crawl up and shove his swim trunks out of the way, grinding against Gerard's soft thigh, listening to Gerard's little whimpers when his soft cock rubs up against Frank's damp trunks. Gerard barely pushes him off in time before he's blowing over his hand and his own shirt. 

"Fuck you, dude." Frank tugs his shirt off over his head, balling it up in his hands. There was no way Gerard would be taking his tank top off, even though it's oversized and threadbare enough that it's just barely draping over his nipples. Gerard always draws lines in weird places, but once they're drawn, that's that. Once he's sure that all the jizz is contained, Frank tucks the shirt into the beach bag on the cement floor. "Come on, we still have to get the fucking ice cream."

There's no reason in trying to pretend and doing some kind of one at a time sneaking out thing. They get more than a few dirty looks, emerging from the stall together, but Frank just rubs his thumb against the corner of his red bruised lips and the gazes get averted. 

The ice cream stand is, of course, mobbed, so it takes even longer for them to set back for the shoreline. Frank leads the way, weaving between strollers and umbrellas and sunbathers with an ice cream cone in each hand while Gerard tags along behind with the cups.

Jamia is sitting on a KISS beach towel under a lurid pink and orange umbrella they picked up at a thrift store years ago, Miles nestled between her thighs. He's picking up handfuls of sand and giggling, carefully watching the twins build a sand castle a foot away, closer to the ocean and the damp sand.  
Both of them come squealing back when they realize there's ice cream.

"That took forever," Jamia says. Frank can tell from the wrinkle in her nose that she's squinting at them behind her sunglasses. 

Gerard plops down next to her and offers her a frozen lemonade. "The line was really long."

Frank knows his wife, and he knows she's taking in Gerard's flushed cheeks, too flushed to just be from the sun, that she's noticed Frank's mouth is fucked up, that both of them are a little too languid for a busy afternoon at the shore. Jamia takes a long sip from her lemonade, then curls her hand around Frank's ankle. She squeezes, and it makes him shiver.

Obediently, he sits down next to her, leaning over to ruffle Miles's downy hair and steal a drink. When he's over her lap, Jamia rests her hand on top of his head and pets through his hair. It's startlingly close to what Gerard was doing only a few minutes ago.

"You're in deep shit, mister." Jamia's voice is low and smooth, too quiet for any of the kids or even Gerard to hear. It stirs in Frank's gut, though, makes him twitch and fight back a moan. "When we get back to the cottage, you're going to make this up to me."

And then she lets go and starts tickling Miles until he squeals. The rest of the day, it's easy to almost forget what she said. Gerard takes the girls down to the water, holding a tiny hand in each of his. They giggle when he dips a toe in and shivers, pretending to be afraid until they drag him into the surf. The salt water washes any sticky ice cream residue away, leaving both of them pink and damp and easily covered in sand when they flop out to make "sand angels" once wading gets boring.

Miles starts to fuss, so Frank picks him up and makes sure his little floppy hat is secure before he takes him on a bouncy walk up and down the twenty-foot stretch of beach in front of their little encampment. Jamia doles out pretzels and fat purple grapes to hungry kids (and Gerard's) before stretching out on the towel, her book lying across her chest. His phone is in the bag, and he settles Miles on his hip before taking a few shots. He posts one of the cup lying on its side, leaking now-liquid lemonade out into the sand, to Instagram captioned _family time._ The rest are of Jamia napping while the girls bury Gerard's legs in the sand, of Miles reaching towards the mysterious silver thing held above his face - some that are just for them.

It's warm and domestic, and _right_ , but he can still feel the steady hum of her promise like a frequency only he can hear. It keeps him warm and lazily thrilled the whole car drive back, even when there are tears and sunburn.

The cottage they're renting is nice and close to the beach, so it's almost no time before they've got the kids all down for naps. There are twin beds in the girls' room, but Frank doesn't even both pulling down both. They'll end up cuddled together in one anyway. Miles accepts a bottle and some Cheerios, then he's down for the count. They'll all be dead to the world until almost dinner time.

Gerard and Jamia are waiting for him when he finally makes his way to the master bedroom. Well, "waiting" probably isn't the right term. They're making out, nice and easy, grinding together and kissing in the big bed with breezy white linens. Not one of the three of them would buy this shit for their own houses, but somehow, here, it feels right.

It's been too long since Gerard's been here with them. He's got his own life out in LA, his own family, but he's always going to be a part of theirs. It's different when he's here. 

Jamia turns away from Gerard to look right at him. Frank can read the _come here_ in her gaze and obeys, shutting the door behind him and coming to join them on the bed.

She reaches for him, threads her fingers loosely through his hair. "Gerard told me what you did."

Frank snorts. "Gerard wasn't complaining when he was getting his dick sucked."

Jamia shakes her head. "You know better. You were supposed to wait."

"I couldn't." Frank gives them both his biggest puppy-dog eyes, even though he knows it won't work. He doesn't want it to work. "I couldn't help myself, Jay, you know I much I miss his dick."

"Aww," Gerard says from behind Jamia. He leans back against the headboard and smirks. "Missed your mouth, Frankie."

"Neither of you has any patience." Jamia groans, but Frank can see the smile waiting in her lips and her eyes. "You know that you owe me now."

"Both of us?" Gerard arches his eyebrows over at Frank, but flinches when Jamia elbows him.

"Both. But especially Frank."

Gerard hums and slides his hands over Jamia's waist, up under her top, and Frank watches his best friend pull his wife's shirt off. She's pink at the throat and on her shoulders from the sun, but mostly she's pale and soft and delicious. "He likes using his mouth so much. Maybe he should show you how good he is."

Frank groans at the idea, even deeper when Jamia tugs at his hair. "How about it, Frank? Are you going to make it up to me?"

It doesn't take long for them all to get naked. Having an extra pair of hands definitely helps, especially when they go to work cupping Jamia's breasts. She leans against Gerard's chest, settled between his thighs while he weighs her breasts in his hands, occasionally teasing at a nipple. Frank looks up from where he's stretched out on his belly between her thighs, just to enjoy the view. He doesn't get to admire much; he's under orders, and Jamia's hand in his hair is firm.

He doesn't tease, just licks her right open, like he knows she likes. She squirms, and he knows that Gerard is holding her in place - she likes that too. It's little things like that, things they can't do on their own, that make having Gerard here so special.

It's kind of zen. After a day of kid-herding, there's something incredibly satisfying about narrowing his focus to just this. Just her. Jamia shifts under him, lets him know when he's doing it right. There's so many years between them, he _knows_ , but it's still nice to get a reaction. He eats her until he's all sticky and she's limp, sprawled against Gerard and pushing weakly at his shoulder with her foot. Frank lifts his head and gives her a smirk. She shakes her head, but she's grinning.

Then finally, finally it's his turn, and Gerard sucks him all sweet and tender. It's the after-dinner mint to follow up a sex buffet, and coming feels more like relief than anything else. The cool relief of aloe on a sunburn which he really should put on for Jamia, but...later. He just wants to close his eyes for a little while, nestled between Jamia and Gerard. Gerard flings his leg over Frank's hip, and they're all too sweaty and sticky for it to really be comfortable, but it's too good for him to complain.

"We should go to the zoo tomorrow," he mumbles into Jamia's hair, and she pats his side.

"Whatever you want, baby."


End file.
